Of it which way you will, there is no fine country nor any agreeable
views. All its alleys and gardens are flat and formal, and all in the
midst of
the town itself, surrounded by colossal houses, and only bounded by a
thick clayey river, which it is unpleasing for the eye to rest upon.
The sight of several of the most admired and important towns in
France,
has reconciled me, in a singular degree, with that of
Tours, whose fame appeared to me, when I first saw
it, to be undeserved. I judged, as one accustomed
to English splendour, and English neatness, and I scarcely gave Tours
all the credit it deserved. When I compare the clear, rapid, sparkling
Loire--shallow though
it be--with the ugly waters of the sluggish
Garonne, I feel that it is indeed superior to most other French
rivers; and when I recollect the long, broad, extensive street which
divides Tours into
two parts, is paved throughout, and connects it with a bridge
of noble proportions and most splendid approach, I am not surprised
that Tours is so much the object of a Frenchman's pride; and I
confess, that, if I
had seen it after the boasted city of Bordeaux, its river, and its
bridge, I should have found little to find fault with; for though it
lies in a plain, it is not a marsh; and
though it is glaring and flat, it is dry and sandy, and not damp and
unwholesome. Bordeaux
is--notwithstanding that